


A Wild and Terrible Thing

by Silex



Category: The Boy Who Cried Wolf - Aesop
Genre: Bestiality, Impregnation, Knotting, Large Cock, M/M, Mpreg, Size Difference, Transformation, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 20:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21464272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: The first time he had called out that there was a wolf had been because he was truly afraid.After that it was because he was bored.Then it was because he was lonely.That the wolf might also be bored and lonely never entered his mind.
Relationships: The Boy/The Wolf (The Boy Who Cried Wolf)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 346
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	A Wild and Terrible Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eidetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidetic/gifts).

The first time he had called out that there was a wolf had been because he was truly afraid. Being alone with just the sheep and the sky and the field and the forest far too close for comfort had made him see wolves in every cloud’s shadow racing across the ground, every breeze shaking the grass.

The men had come and he’d felt better, even with the scolding he got.

After that it was because he was bored, watching the sheep as they grazed, all alone with nothing ever happening to break up the monotony.

At least getting yelled at broke up the day.

Then it was because he was lonely. The sheep made for poor company and he had hoped that someone might stay with him if they believed there to be danger. Having someone to talk to other than himself would have been nice and would certainly have prevented what followed.

He was beaten for that and considered the lesson learned.

That the wolf might also be bored and lonely never entered his mind.

He saw it in the distance the next day, a dark shadow angling this way and that against the yellow-green late summer grass.

This way and that, weaving back and forth.

He watched in the way a rabbit would watch a stoat dancing towards it.

So that was a wolf.

The wolf.

It was larger than any of the town dogs, lean and rangy, gray and brown and black at the tips of its ears and tail, and when it lifted its head the fur of its throat was a creamy white.

It looked at him with those yellow eyes that knew too much.

_Look at me little boy_ those eyes said, _Have you ever beheld a king? For you are in the presence of royalty._

Mouth lolling open it seemed to smile, an invitation to malice.

The wolf was regal, there was no lie in that. Powerful as well, for though it didn’t run its strides ate the distance between them.

By the time he thought to cry out the wolf was close.

Too close.

He could see specks of a deeper hue in those yellow eyes.

Flecks of gold amid a pebbled streambed.

He was being washed away by those eyes.

It blinked, lazily.

The spell was broken.

He called out.

No one came.

The wolf growled, not the sound a dog would make, but something dry and sharp, escaping in brittle shards between those long, white fangs.

The sound cut him, not the teeth that closed on the back of his neck when he tried to run, but the sound seeping between them.

He was sure that death would follow, that the royal wolf would shake him like a dog would a rat and his neck would snap.

It didn’t shake, didn’t close its jaws to lap at his life’s blood, though its tongue did flick eagerly against the back of his neck, no doubt relishing the sour tang of his fear.

Its enormous weight forced him to the ground beneath it.

Helpless he rested on all fours, face pressed against the grass, crying, but too afraid to make a noise.

Any moment those teeth would close and…

It shifted, letting go of his neck, but he was still trapped.

Paws larger than his hands, gray nails like chips of flint digging into the ground in front of his face.

The wolf pressed down above him, the soft fur of its belly rubbing against him like a sweltering blanket in the late afternoon sun.

For a time it held him there, content to stand over the prize it had claimed.

Then it lowered its head, sniffed in his ear as though it were an ordinary dog.

It licked his face and he let out a sigh of relief.

It was short lived when the wolf slammed him to the ground with one massive paw before stepping back to grab the waist of his trousers.

He felt its teeth against the skin of his back, the heat and wetness of its breath.

When he tried to pull away he left his trousers in its teeth.

The wolf lunged forward, trapping his again, its fur tickling his bare legs, but amid the softness of its pelt was something hard and wet and hot.

It prodded against his back, clumsily at first, but with growing determination as it rubbed back and forth against him, between his legs, then higher.

Then lower again, back and forth, seeking.

The wolf let out a growl that was almost a whine.

He’d seen dogs in the village do this, but to imagine the wolf doing something like that to him was unthinkable.

It prodded harder, making him let out a squeak of fear.

The wolf growled, sharper, angrier and he fell silent thinking of those fangs.

It continued to rub against him, seeking until it found what it was searching for.

It pressed against his hole, seeking entrance and he tensed, trying to deny it.

The tip of its organ was tapered, narrow enough that it started to slide in despite his efforts.

Deeper and deeper it went, growing painful as it stretched him open.

He moved his legs apart, trying to ease the pressure, which only enabled it to slide in the rest of the way.

Involuntarily he tensed against it, then the impossible happened. The wolf’s organ began to grow inside him. Larger and larger, he could feel it increasing in size with every one of the wolf’s thrusts, filling him utterly. An enormous swelling at the base trapped him, jolting him forward and then pulling him back in time with the wolf’s movement.

Each thrust caused him to let out a yelp and when the wolf pulled back he gasped at the feeling of that swelling, pressing against his hole from the inside. It felt as though it were as large as his clenched fist, larger even.

He cried out in pain, even as that swelling pressed against a place inside him that made his own member ach and start to grow hard, throbbing in time with what the wolf was doing to him as though it too were under the great beast’s control, and perhaps it was.

The rest of him was certainly at the mercy of the wolf.

The wolf panted above him, he could feel its tail swing back and forth, wagging happily as it had its way with him.

Each thrust seemed to go deeper finding new places in him that caused his cries of pain to be interspersed with ones of pleasure. That something like this could feel good didn’t seem possible, and yet it did, his member throbbing harder and harder, as unrelenting and merciless as the wolf.

It snarled, its teeth clicking on empty air and then something happened, molten fire seemed to fill him, something thick and hot rushing into his insides.

The wolf panted and whined and he whined with it, pearly white issuing from his member and spattering on the ground as the pressure from the burning pleasure filling him caused him to reach his moment as well.

It was all the wolf’s moment though, none of it was his.

Everything, the sky, the ground, the forest, belonged to the wolf.

He belonged to the wolf.

He finished long before the wolf did, making him wonder if it would ever end. The swelling of the wolf’s member kept him tied to it, holding in the pressure inside him.

Eventually the wolf slowed and stopped, but they remained locked together.

It shuddered and then lowered itself to the ground on top of him.

He feared it would crush him, or suffocate him, but then it turned to its side, dragging him with it. Paws over his shoulders it began to lick at the back of his neck.

In the distance he could hear the bleating of the sheep, the wolf’s arrival having driven them off.

If he ever escaped he would have to fetch them or risk another beating.

Closer he could hear insects buzzing in the tall grass.

Above he could see birds passing by, scraps of ragged black across the blindingly clear blue sky.

Eventually, just when he believed that he would forever be attached to the wolf, that when it stood up it would drag him off with it, the pressure inside him began to abate.

As the wolf’s member softened and shrank something sticky began to seep out of him and down the backs of his legs. When it finally pulled free the thick, white liquid escaped in a rush, a sudden sense of lightness coming over him.

The wolf ran without looking back, leaving him to lay helpless in the grass.

Eventually he was able to stand, clean himself as best as he was able with the grass and find his trousers which were surprisingly undamaged.

Walking was difficult, he still felt stretched and overly full, as though some of what the wolf had filled him with remained.

His hole felt tender, when he pressed his fingers against it it felt swollen from the abuse he had suffered. Swollen and inviting. The temptation to press his fingers harder, explore himself from the inside, flashed through him. It passed quickly, but that it had been there when it had never before meant something.

The wolf had left, but it had left something behind.

He could sense it in the weakness of his legs, the faint ringing of his ears and the soreness that lingered.

Gathering the sheep took time, his stride reduced to a slow, stiff-legged gait.

He didn’t say anything about what had happened, fearing that no one would believe him, or worse they would and laugh at what the wolf had done to him. It was best to keep his humiliation secret and hope that he might in time forget about it.

He couldn’t though.

Each day he went to the field to graze the sheep he was filled with dread, certain that the wolf would be there waiting for him.

It wasn’t, and it wasn’t simply fear that made his stomach feel hot and heavy. Something was happening to him, something that made his stomach ache and swell.

Each day it felt larger until finally his parents noticed, demanding to know if he had been stealing food to eat in the fields when he was supposed to be watching the sheep.

Tearfully he denied it, but he already had a reputation as a liar and they refused to believe him. They scolded him and sent him out without lunch.

That day when he went to the field he could smell the wolf. It was a scent he had never encountered before, but he knew it was the wolf, because the sheep bleated fearfully and refused to go near the tuft of grass that had been marked, and because it was acrid and powerful it a way that mad his stomach churn and his knees weak.

He tried to ignore it, to keep away from the marked grass, but the scent called to him in the same way the wolf had. He couldn’t ignore it and over time he found himself creeping closer and closer to that patch of grass, waiting.

Late in the day, mere hours before he would have been free to go home, his waiting was rewarded.

The wolf returned.

Before he had imagined that he would run if he saw it again, abandon the flock and hurry back to the village and accept the beating he would get for it.

Instead he dropped to his hands and knees, shaking.

The wolf loped over, sniffed his face and licked him. Its tongue slipped between his lips and into his mouth, hot and searching.

He whimpered against it and the wolf withdrew its tongue.

Tail held high it trotted around behind him and sniffed noisily, nosing him through his trousers.

He could feel the heat of its breath through his clothing and wasn’t at all surprised when he felt it against his bare skin as the wolf pulled down his trousers as it had the first time.

This time he knew what was coming and try as he might to tense, the heat of the wolf’s breath and its lapping tongue made him relax so that when he felt its member press against him there was hardly any resistance before it slid right it.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad this time, he told himself. Perhaps the first time had been the worst and he would be used to it.

Then the base began to swell and he cried out, his voice high and strange in his ears, almost a whine.

As the swelling continued to grow his member began to respond, throbbing urgently, so hard that it was painful to the touch.

He spread his legs wider, allowing the wolf to fully enter him and when it began to thrust he rocked back and forth against it, the movement somehow soothing the ache of his member.

It felt good, right, as though this was where he was supposed to be.

As though his body were made for the wolf, nothing more than an extension of it.

His member throbbed in time with the thrusts, twitching and aching.

It was painful to be so full, stretched around the wolf’s massive organ, but not as much so as it had been the first time.

The presence of the wolf was still terrifying, its weight above him still made him tremble, but he pressed against it, feeling its fur, soft against him. He wanted to sink into that fur, to be lost in it.

He rocked on the wolf’s member, tensing and relaxing along with its thrusts.

This time it reached its moment swiftly and as it did so did he. His own little member, hot and red gave him release, spurt after spurt in time with the wolf until he was utterly spent.

And still he kept going, dry and painful because the wolf was not yet done filling him with the wonderful, horrible heat.

It sank deep into his belly and he rubbed at his stomach, not at all surprised to feel a bulge there, larger than he remembered from that morning. He didn’t know if it was from the wolf’s member or what it was filling him with, or if what it had done was speeding up what had begun during their last encounter, but it terrified him.

This time when the wolf was done it remained standing, looking out into the distance, towards the forest from which it had come from and to where it would return. The trees were dense and wild, the darkness of their shade every bit as terrifying as the wolf itself.

Above him he could hear its heard beating, feel its chest expand as it drew breath.

_This is my kingdom_ it seemed to say, _A wild and terrible place for a wild and terrible king._

He trembled in awe and when the wolf withdrew he shuddered with the sudden feeling of emptiness.

He stood up, his legs feeling all wrong.

Everything felt wrong.

His head spun and he had to sit down in the mess flowing from him.

The wolf wagged its tail, yellow eyes merry as though they had just shared some secret joke.

It nudged his stomach and licked him. Then its tongue darted lower and lower still, licking his little member, still red and aching. The deep pink tongue curled around his member and he saw that the tip was now tapered.

Had it been before?

Did it matter?

The wolf licked lower, tongue flicking into his hole as the wolf tasted itself in him.

It seemed pleased by this for it continued to lick him until he was clean.

Then it stood next to him, waiting until he was able to stand by leaning against him.

It began to walk, guiding him into the forest and he followed.

Eventually he was able to walk on his own, still shaky legs held wide for balance, though not as wide as they would be in the days to come when his stomach grew large and round when the life he carried within him quickened and moved.

The wolf took him to a den dug deep in the soft, sweet smelling ground beneath a great oak tree.

Exhausted by his ordeal he curled up and fell into a fitful sleep, full of dreams of lost sheep and angry yelling.

He had abandoned the flock, he realized when he woke up, but he had no idea where he was, no idea how to get home.

Besides the wolf was there at the mouth of the den and though he couldn’t see them, he could hear what its eyes said.

_You are home._

And he was, home and safe.

The den was warm, lined with soft grass and leaves and when the wolf curled up next to him its fur was softer still.

He fell back to sleep, his head resting on its chest, ticking the tips of his ears.

~Some weeks later~

He lay on his side, hand resting against his belly, feeling the movement of the pups growing inside him. It was uncomfortable, but at the same time it filled him with pride, made his chest ache. The children he would birth were of the wolf and therefore royalty, little princes and princesses all.

His ears, pointed and sticking out of his hair, twitched, turning at the sound of something approaching.

The wolf of course, bringing him the day’s meal.

A fine, fat rabbit.

Stretching he rose to his hands and knees, gingerly crawling forward. Walking was difficult with how large his belly was compared to his small frame, but he would grow strong in time, the wolf’s eyes promised. Future litters would be easier to carry.

The wolf dropped the rabbit at the mouth of the den and padded forward.

He lowered his head and ears in its presence, even as his, short tail, newly grown that morning, but already so much a part of him that it felt natural as though it had always been there, lifted invitingly so that it might have its way with him if it so desired.

It didn’t, not at the moment at least, and was content to lap at his hole in a way that sent a rush of warmth through him and made the tip of his member peak from the fuzzy little sheath that nestled against his belly.

His ears and tail, the changes to his member, it was all part of what was happening to him and they made him afraid.

Then the wolf began to nuzzle his member and he fell to his side, rolling over onto his back.

He couldn’t see past his belly, but he could feel what was happening, his member flushing red with the soft touch, the little knot at its base beginning to swell.

The knot was new and seemed to please the wolf, for it curled its tongue around the base of his member, the touch rough yet somehow gentle.

Laying on its belly the wolf pleasured him with its tongue as his tail wagged against the floor of the den.

If his changes were pleasing to the wolf then they were pleasing to him, for he trusted the wolf.

The pups moved inside him and he whimpered.

_Soon_, the wolf promised, _Soon you will bear my children and give me a pack to run with._

And it’s tongue, oh its tongue promised so much more.


End file.
